


it goes like this

by thatdamnedrogue



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:49:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnedrogue/pseuds/thatdamnedrogue
Summary: Five short paragraphs, each for a different one of my Roxas ships.





	it goes like this

**Author's Note:**

> Each one is its own thing, and I honestly just have a lot of feelings about each ship.

Axel

It goes like this: warmth, like a fire in the hearth in the dead of winter. Heavy weight of a warm blanket. Elbows and knees and sprawled and curled up. Always odd and ends, bits and bobbles. Sly grins and rolling eyes. Hands are rough and calloused and warm, and he never seems to mind when you hold them. You fumble, he laughs, you elbow him. It’s good natured until it’s not, and you two never use the word love because words are so easily misconstrued and he tells you that sometimes it’s better not to listen to them. He tells you he’s got blood on his hands. You tell him that you trust him anyway. He gives you a lopsided smile, steals a kiss. There’s always a fire behind it. He smells like cinnamon and cloves and burning wood. 

One day, you’ll find a way to express how you both feel. Until then, lazy afternoons tangled together doing whatever are just as good.

* * *

Xion

It goes like this: the sound of the ocean, the feeling of sun drying water from your skin. Snug cardigans, black skirts, and boots. Whispered jokes and stifled giggles. It’s soft and hesitant, but not lacking confidence. Wide palms and dark skin, hands rough where the keyblade sits, but soft everywhere else. You like to think they could be very gifted with music- you’ve heard them sing, and it’s breathtaking. Between you two there is an understanding you share with no other. Gently intertwining fingers, briefly pressing foreheads together. Unashamed kisses, chaste and excited and adoring. You don’t to fumble with words, but when you do they are ever patient, ever attentive. They smell of gardenias and vanilla and woods.

You two make small gestures, you show your affection in more than words. But sometimes, in the dead of night, you whisper “I love you” and they whisper it back. 

* * *

Hayner

It goes like this: fist fights and unexpected affection. Broken noses and bruised pride. Crooked smiles, jackets too big and pants with deep pockets. Screaming at concerts, singing at the top of your lungs until you’re hoarse. Skinned knees, subtle touches in public. Messy, sloppy kisses, given without hesitation. Whatever it is you share, it is just “whatever”. You don’t label it because it would ruin it- instead, you run off to another show together. He smells like body spray and ice cream and hair gel. 

It’s the only time you feel like you imagine a “normal” teenager would. 

(And he hates the word “normal”.)

* * *

Sora

It goes like this: overwhelming love. Vast and welcoming and damn near unconditional. Smile brighter than the sun, lifts you up like a burst of warm wind. Dark skin covered in freckles. Bare feet on warm sand, clear oceans stretching towards the horizon. The World Is Ahead! Adventure Awaits! Promise of friendship, you will never be alone. The first kiss is to the corner of your lips with a nervous smile. For all his bright optimism, no one would ever guess the tempest of emotions nestled inside. But you know, and you kiss him back. Every kiss after varies, but is often a surprise. He smells of sea salt and chocolate and oranges.

He says “I love you” in a million little ways, but your favorite is the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles upon seeing you. (He actually says it too.) 

* * *

Vanitas

It goes like this: sharp claws and stolen glances. Whispered words into the darkness. Cold, yes, but not off putting. Like the moon, ever present, ever illuminating even on the darkest of nights. Like a winter storm, dangerous and terrifying and beautiful. In your head, you call him moonlight. He would hate it. Darkness but not without company. Alone together, perhaps. Long silences, shoulder to shoulder. Claws lightly trace down your arm. A leap of faith, but being between two worlds, you can understand, at least somewhat, what it’s like to have expectation upon you that you cannot, will not, and never intend to reach. He smells of ash, heavy on the tongue, of copper and iron, and of rain. 

He hates being vulnerable, and you never mention it. Secrets stay unspoken but understood.


End file.
